by Donald Robyn
The journalist made a sudden dash for the beach. He took only two steps before Max brought him down, sending his small camera flying.
‘You bastard!’ the journalist howled, scrabbling for his equipment.
Ignoring his shouted imprecations, Max dragged him to his feet and twisted his arm up his back.
Rosa breathed a heartfelt sigh when two policemen ran down the path and took over.
One hauled the reporter out of sight, while the other spoke respectfully to Max. Then he too left.
Grimly Max said, ‘That should keep him out of mischief for a couple of days, but we’re not going to be able to silence him. If he’s telling the truth—and I suspect he is—his tabloid is going to spill the beans in what I imagine is their biggest story of the century so far. I have to tell the king, and you must leave Niroli today.’
Pain clawed Rosa, but she fought it back. She couldn’t break now. Later—when no one could see her—she might be able to accept that once more he’d put his duty before her. She had to accept it. ‘When—when will I see you next?’
‘I don’t know.’ He wasn’t looking at her. ‘Possibly never.’
It was the answer she expected. Wordlessly she nodded, turning away to stare blindly over the sea. If she said anything more—even just his name—she’d howl like a baby, and she had too much pride to do that.
In a voice completely devoid of emotion, he went on, ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to visit the king right now. When this comes out—and it will, even if it’s only innuendo and insinuations—there’ll be a constitutional crisis. It will be better for everyone if you’re not mixed up in it. The jet will take you back to New Zealand.’
She said thinly, ‘All right.’
He didn’t touch her, but as she turned to go back to the villa he said deliberately, ‘Rosa, I’m sorry. But I’ll never be sorry for these last few days.’
Incredibly, she managed a smile. ‘Neither will I,’ she said, and walked back to the villa and started to pack.
He saw her once more as the helicopter landed on the beach to take her back to Porto di Castellante. He was waiting outside the bedroom door, and as she came out he said quietly, ‘Goodbye, sweet Rosa.’
Tears aching in her throat, she made a muffled sound and turned away. ‘Goodbye. And—thank you.’
His hand on her shoulder stilled her. Hardly daring to breathe, she obeyed its summons and looked up into his face. He looked older, his face drawn and darkly intimidating, no softness, no hint of compromise in the autocratic features. He bent his head and kissed her forehead.
‘You will make a superb queen. Be happy.’
‘Will you be?’ she asked fiercely, refusing to accept platitudes.
His mouth tightened. ‘I believe that eventually even the greatest grief is eased by time.’
‘Do you?’ she said simply. ‘Goodbye, Max.’
By the time the jet delivered her to New Zealand, the news had well and truly broken. Even on that side of the world the papers devoted a lot of space to juicy descriptions of the turmoil in the richest royal family in the world. The more serious press explored the constitutional crisis, but the popular magazines and papers concentrated on the scanty details of Queen Eva’s long-ago affair with Giovanni, splashing them across the pages accompanied by photographs of all of the heirs who’d turned down the throne.
But nowhere, neither in New Zealand nor overseas, was there a whisper about the precious days she’d spent with Max.
Although several stringers for foreign news agencies hung around her flat for a couple of days, they gave up when she and Kate refused any comments.
Her immediate family were constantly supportive by both email and on the telephone, while agreeing that she was in the best place, as far from the chaos as she could be. In one brief, formal call her grandfather requested that she give no interviews. He’d brushed off her enquiries about his health with a few curt words.
The wider Niroli royal family—and those who had recently believed themselves royal—closed ranks and stayed silent. The palace refused comment.
No one at the lab mentioned the scandal, although her boss called her in and suggested awkwardly that she might take time off as she’d been looking a bit tired recently.
She refused, but each morning saw her apply a layer of concealer beneath her eyes and boost the intensity of her lipstick, and on the really bad nights she took half a sleeping pill.
Not long after she’d arrived back in New Zealand, Rosa threw a newspaper—one that featured an interview with a distant cousin of Giovanni’s wife—to one side, uttering a very rude word indeed.
‘Cheer up,’ Kate said bracingly, ‘it could have been worse. At least nobody’s been killed in all this fuss, and as far as I can see there’s been no hint of drugs or child slavery in it either.’
Rosa gave a pale grin. ‘Not vices the ruling house of Niroli dabble in,’ she said bleakly.
‘Good on them. And you seem to have scotched the blight outbreak in Niroli. How’s your research coming along?’
‘Fine.’ It was a mechanical answer.
Kate raised her brows, but said nothing more about Niroli, for which Rosa was very grateful.
She’d known that missing Max would be difficult.
Oh, she’d known nothing, she thought passionately.
Life without him was empty of savour, a bland, featureless existence that stretched ahead, dreary day after dreary day until the end of her life. At night she ached for him, longing for something—some indication that he hadn’t forgotten her, that they really had shared those sunlit days and long, hot nights when he’d taught her how to be a woman.
His woman.
Even at work the zest, the fascination with science that had always gone with her previously, had packed its bags and departed, along with her heart and her happiness. It had been so easy to say that whatever happened they’d have those days to remember, but she’d had no idea how bitterly sweet the memories would be.
And although she was worried about the succession to the throne, she couldn’t concentrate on it. It didn’t matter that neither her grandfather nor anyone from the palace secretariat had contacted her again; if she ended up on the throne of Niroli she’d do her best, just as she’d always done. She hoped that would be enough.
Turning her head, Kate said sharply, ‘Someone’s coming up the path—I’ll see who they are.’
When she came back in she looked disturbed. ‘Reporters. Do you want to see them?’
‘God, no.’
The telephone rang. Kate snatched it up and listened, her face settling into what she called the standard legal expression of noncommittal blandness. ‘Can you prove that?’ she asked.
Chapter 12
After a pause Kate frowned, took the receiver from her ear and covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘He says he’s your grandfather’s private secretary.’
Rosa dragged in a deep breath as she lifted the telephone to her ear. Briefly, the king’s right-hand man told her that Max was no longer the heir to the throne, and asked her to keep herself ready for anything that might happen. She was not to speak to the press.
Numbly she agreed to everything, but when she went to put the receiver back her hand was shaking so badly she dropped it, and gave a startled sob.
Kate came flying back in, but stopped after one look at Rosa’s face. ‘I’ll make you coffee,’ she said.
It came with a stiff shot of brandy. ‘Drink it,’ Kate commanded. ‘What the hell is your family doing to you?’
Another knock on the door drove her to the window. ‘Bloody reporters,’ she muttered. ‘Something’s happened—they’ve got that baying-for-blood look. Do you feel like telling me what’s going on?’
Rosa nodded and sketchily, without mentioning her feelings, filled her in on the situation.
Kate pursed her lips, saying after a pause heavy with unspoken thoughts, ‘I think I could do with a brandy too.’
‘
It’s probably a good idea,’ Rosa said wearily. ‘Let’s just not talk about it, OK?’
‘OK by me, but if you want to, I’m here.’
In spite of Kate’s support, she had never felt so alone in her life. She spent a sleepless night staring into an intolerable future. When she came into the kitchen the next morning Kate eyed her up and down and exclaimed, ‘You’re not going to work, are you?’
‘Why not? The reporters have gone.’
Kate hesitated, then said, ‘It looks like it, but I bet they’ll be back as soon as they’ve had breakfast.’
She was right; they arrived in a pack the moment Rosa closed the gates behind the car and hurled questions at her as she got back into it.
‘How do you feel about the scandal in the family?’ the most pushy woman demanded, microphone at the ready. ‘Did you know about Queen Eva’s affair with the gardener?’
Sickened, Rosa groped for the handle of the door to close it, but their questions beat against her.
‘Is the king going to divorce her?’
‘How do you feel about your cousins not really being your cousins?’
‘Are you going to be the next ruler of Niroli?’
Harried and furious, Rosa drove off, narrowly missing a not-too-alert television cameraman, but after a distracted day trying to concentrate on her work had to fight her way back into the house.
The telephone rang again that night, once more with the king’s private secretary on the other end. ‘We have tried to keep your privacy as our first consideration,’ he stated austerely, as though it were her fault reporters had camped outside her house, ‘but rumours have begun to circulate suggesting that you’re to be the next ruler. Because this leaves you vulnerable, a security firm has been contacted; they should be arriving any minute to take you to a lodge in South Island.’
‘I see,’ she said woodenly. ‘Thank you.’
She wanted to ask him where Max was, what was happening. Instead, she hung up and told Kate what was happening.
‘About time too,’ her friend said vigorously. ‘Will you be all right? Do you want me to contact your sister or anyone else in your family?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. I’ll ring you tonight,’ Rosa said, trying to sound casual. ‘If my cousin Max gets in touch—which is highly unlikely—can you give him my cellphone number?’
Kate promised to do that, and offered to help her pack.
Four hours later she was ensconced in a magnificent private lodge halfway up a mountain on the long alpine spine of the South Island. Facing her was the man who’d smuggled her out of the house and into a plane; solid, middle-aged, efficient and friendly, he was telling her of the measures they’d taken to ensure both her privacy and her safety.
He’d covered everything—even gone to the lab and got enough work to keep her occupied.
‘Thank you for everything,’ she said, trying very hard to sound her usual self.
He shrugged and smiled. ‘I was told you’d rather leave than have bodyguards and try to go about your normal routine.’
She was surprised her grandfather knew enough about her to understand that, but the information warmed her heart. In spite of everything, it seemed he was thinking of her.
The lodge must have been entirely taken over by the king, because no other guests disturbed her solitude during the two long weeks that followed. Isabella emailed frequently, as did her brothers, but they were locked out of Niroli’s affairs. The newspapers were filled with endless speculation, in which Adam Ryder’s name wasn’t mentioned. No one knew where Max was.
And Kate rang each day to tell her that Max hadn’t tried to contact her.
Spring in the mountains was beautiful. Her host and hostess were charming, interesting people who kept finding intriguing things for her to do. Rosa did her best to appear to enjoy it. When she wasn’t working, or obsessively following what was being reported about the situation on Niroli, she went for long walks with an amiable black and white sheepdog that seemed as fascinated as she was by the high country. She thought much about the way shot blight managed to survive in a world that did its best to kill it.
And she pined like a Victorian maiden abandoned by her lover. It was ridiculous; she’d known right from the start that she and Max could never hope for any sort of happy ending, but that knowledge didn’t forestall the aching emptiness that lay in wait for her every hour of every day.
And pounced during the long, bitter nights.
Doggedly, she kept working, taking her laptop outside to enjoy the crisp, golden air beside the pool, noting the tide of activity on a working sheep station.
One afternoon the sound of a helicopter intruded into the solitude. Getting to her feet, she watched as it settled behind the trees that sheltered the house, and allowed a moment’s hope. Her stomach knotted and she braced herself.
Was this a messenger from the king, calling her back to Niroli and the throne? Or had he found someone else?
Except that there was no one else.
Jaw set, panic kicking in her stomach, she walked into the house and up to her bedroom. Whatever, she planned to be properly dressed.
By the time someone knocked at the door of her luxurious suite she was clad in linen trousers and a white shirt, her feet in high-heeled sandals, cosmetics masking her pallor.
‘Come in,’ she said quietly, so quietly she had to clear her throat and repeat it with more emphasis.
The door opened, and she gave a shocked, incredulous gasp, because it was Max who stood there.
She clamped down on her first instinct, to run to him and throw herself into his arms, but her gaze clung hungrily to his dark, arrogant features.
‘Rosa,’ he said, his hooded gaze intent and purposeful.
She swallowed. ‘Did he know how cruel of him it was to send you?’
He realised instantly what she meant. ‘Your grandfather didn’t send me,’ he said, and came inside and closed the door behind him.
Eyes enormous in a face more angular, subtly thinner, she gazed at him. ‘Then it was cruel of you to come,’ she whispered.
‘The nightmare’s over for both of us,’ Max said, furious all over again with the old man whose stubbornness had put her through such hell. He frowned at the bewilderment in her face. ‘We’re free,’ he told her, triumph colouring the words.
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Free to do anything we want. I’m no longer the heir and neither are you.’
She frowned. ‘Then who is?’
‘Adam Ryder,’ he said, anger edging his tone. ‘Haven’t they told you anything?’
‘Who?’
‘Those grey old men at the palace.’ He clamped down on his fury, forcing himself to think calmly. She looked as though she’d been on the wire too long, so strung out she could barely take in what he was saying. More gently he said, ‘Sit down, my sweet girl.’
She looked around vaguely before collapsing into a chair over by the window. ‘You must be tired if you’ve just arrived in New Zealand,’ she said with a return of colour to her cheeks. She gestured to another chair. ‘Tell me what’s been happening.’
He lowered himself down, wishing he could just sit and take her in. But her eyes were fixed onto his face with an intensity that produced a fresh surge of cold fury in him. ‘What exactly do you know of the events at the palace?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said simply. ‘I was just told not to talk to the press, and then, later, that as rumours were circulating about me being the next ruler it was deemed safer to bring me here.’
He swore richly and fluently, and she started to laugh, only to choke it back because tears threatened to overwhelm her.
‘My poor girl,’ he said harshly. ‘If I’d known that they were keeping you in the dark I’d have rung night and morning to keep you up to date with negotiations. Tell me one thing—do you want to be Queen?’
She stared at him with horror. ‘No. Never. Max, you know that—why do you even bother to ask?
’
‘Because I’ve spent the time since you left Niroli bargaining with the king on that assumption. Perhaps I should have made sure you hadn’t changed your mind—’
‘Why?’ she said, bewildered all over again. ‘You didn’t need to ask me again. Max, if you don’t tell me what’s happened, I’ll—I’ll hit you!’
‘I’m sorry, I’m making a mess of this.’ He smiled without amusement, and ran a hand over his chin, briefly closing his eyes. ‘In short, once the king understood that I don’t have a drop of Fierrezza blood in me, he decided that you could be whipped into shape as an acceptable queen. He even picked out a perfectly good husband for you—one who’d actually rule the country. So I spent some of the more arduous days of my life persuading him that Adam Ryder would be a better choice.’
She stared at him, reading more than he intended in the hard features. The negotiations had been hard-fought, probably antagonistic. Her heart began to pick up speed. ‘Why?’
‘Because it was the only thing I could do for you,’ he said soberly. ‘In the end he capitulated, after I told him that you and I were lovers, and that you could already be pregnant. The thought of another scandal was more than he could cope with.’
‘Is he all right?’ she asked swiftly, using her concern for her grandfather to hide the shivering pleasure that had swept over her at the thought of carrying Max’s baby.
His smile was ironic yet subtly respectful. ‘He’s fine. And when I pointed out to him that there is no actual rule that says the heirs to the throne of Niroli must be legitimate, I think he was relieved. I was helped by the fact that the palace hierarchy agreed that Adam was a better bet, more agreeable to the islanders than a woman would ever be.’
Exultation soared, then died. He’d fought for her freedom, but that didn’t mean that he loved her. Very evenly she said, ‘That was kind of you. And there is no baby.’
‘I’m glad of that.’ He was watching her closely, hard green-gold eyes shadowed by heavy lashes, his mouth a little grim. ‘I’d hate to see you made tabloid fodder. You called me kind once before. I don’t feel kindly where you’re concerned, Rosa. I told the king about—us—because it seemed to me that taking my own freedom by casting you to the wolves was the act of a coward.’ His eyelids dropped until his eyes were narrow slivers of pure green. ‘But if you do want power, it’s not too late. I suspect the king would still prefer a legitimate scion of his house to inherit rather than Adam.’